A Dalek To Remember
by Akktri
Summary: A Dalek romance.
1. Chapter 1: Love Note

Beneath this cold metal exterior beats a heart as warm and sentimental as any race that has had the misfortune of encountering us.

I am a Dalek.

In case you've never heard of us before, we're basically little blob-like creatures that drive around big machines shaped like a saltshakers.

The basic machines come equipped with a plunger and a death ray, though I rarely use mine. The attachments are interchangeable. Sometimes we replace our guns with robotic arms or magnets or flame throwers.

Attached to the top of the unit, where our little control centers are housed, we have a sort of camera attached to a rod, which sends visual data to a screen in the control center.

Two lights on either side serve to indicate when the speech mechanism is in operation. As a rule, it's rude to speak when another Dalek's lights are flashing.

Well, unless we're exterminating someone.

Speaking of which, you doubtless have heard about our hate.

I know, no amount of apologizing will excuse this, or our killing, but if you're willing to look past this angry facade, you'd see we also have a tender side.

A heart that secretly loves, and longs to be loved.

This is why, during the Category 9 dust storm passing over the surface of planet Skaro on 547.4029.32:00, I chose to laser etch "I LOVE DALEK 42362 on the interior wall of Installation 903403.

The first one to see it was not Dalek 42362, but rather my superior in the white can.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!" he barked. "EXPLAIN!"

"LOVE, SIR," I shot back with embarrassing loudness.

Even when we were having a normal conversation, we tend to shout to each other. To date, no Dalek has designed a volume control for our speech devices. You had to either make yourself brave, or stop speaking.

"I CAN SEE THAT," he said. "WHY MUST YOU DEFACE THE BARRACKS WITH THIS NONSENSE?"

"BECAUSE SKARO HAS NO FLOWERS," I said.

It took him a full minute for him to form a response.

"DO YOU WISH TO BE SENT TO THE DALEK ASYLUM?"

"ONLY IF DALEK 42362 ACCOMPANIES ME."

Another long pause.

"YOU HAVE TWENTY FOUR HOURS TO REMOVE THE MARKINGS FROM THIS WALL, OR YOU WILL BE REPORTED TO DALEK HIGH COMMAND."

With that, my superior drove away.

Twenty four hours! I thought with joy swelling in my shriveled body.

Twenty four hours for Dalek 42362 to see my handiwork!

Little did I know she'd be in the shop all day, getting her electronics rewired.

If you don't think a Dalek can cry, you should have heard me when I sandblasted my work off that Plascrete wall.


	2. Chapter 2: The Cat

My heartbreak begins with a cat.

Okay, so it was on planet Hoazmiqu, so it wasn't really a cat in the strictest sense of the word, but if you excuse the porcupine quills and the lack of binocular vision, it's pretty much the same thing, minus the glowing.

Dalek 386455 (in the white can) sent us to the planet to eliminate anything that wasn't a Dalek. You know, to preserve absolute perfection in the universe.

For the most part, it was straightforward war, and I could kind of sort of justify my killing as part of battle. They had guns. We had ultra high intensity humanoid lifeform vaporizing laser cannons.

I'm not excusing what I've done, I'm just trying to explain why it didn't bother me at the time.

From time to time, those guns actually did some damage to our chariots. Not a lot of damage, of course, but enough to immobilize a few of us and even kill Dalek 400121 (though that's the only one they killed).

Arihajalc, the capital city of Hoazmiqu, was an idyllic place, which is really a shame because we demolished it.

It was the type of city the Green Lantern would have appreciated. The buildings were tall, multicolored crystalline structures, like a series of giant quartz samples, the main square featuring a beautiful fountain with winged quadrupeds on it.

The Hoazmiqu army sandbagged the place, filling the area with armed soldiers and tanks. After a short but brutal battle, the fountain was only a battered wreckage of pipes spraying water, and 42362 and I were assigned to do a sweep of the back alleys, in search of enemy targets to neutralize.

The markets, though abandoned by their terrified merchants, were a fascinating picture of humble agrarian life.

I could have set the wooden stalls on fire, but I didn't see a point. I liked to stare at the scattered debris in places like this, piecing together what life would have been like had we not invaded. Treasonous thoughts I feared to admit to anyone, even myself.

We found the feline devouring a six legged fish in front of a bombed out stall with a collapsed roof.

I pointed my death ray and aimed. "EXTERMINATE!"

I turned my eyestalk, waiting for 42362's approval.

To my surprise, she said "NO."

Awkward.

After a confused moment's pause, I said, "EXPLAIN."

"IT IS A CAT," she said. "IT POSES NO MILITARISTIC THREAT." She paused. "AND IT HAS A SAD LITTLE EYE."

And then we both stared at the creature, both seeming to be in silent agreement that there was more to life than exterminating things.

42362 fed her a fish hanging on the upper part of the stall, and the feline pawed experimentally on her vehicle's sensors.

It clambered up to the top of her shell, perching on the `neck', and there it rode for several yards as we swept the area for enemy soldiers.

We found none. They were running scared.

42362 became so comfortable with the feline that she opened up the `head' section of her vehicle, allowing the creature to touch her.

We're not as delicate as people say. We can absorb a bit of sun and rain and air with no ill effect.

Allowing a giant porcupine-like feline into your little control compartment, however, was borderline madness.

The first thing the cat tried to do was nibble her head.

42362 screamed, but for a moment, I didn't know what to do. After all, she _did_ tell me not to exterminate it.

I ended up smacking it with my plunger, and it was a lucky thing it didn't have its teeth sunk in her, or the love of my life would have been dead.

As it stands, 42362 ended up with a scar, and we had to tell anyone who asked that 42362 got attacked by a feline she was exterminating, and that's why there were quills stuck in her shell and my plunger.

The others in our team made insinuations that we were flirting, but 42362 denied it, and afterwards she seemed to want nothing to do with me.

I, on the other tentacle, wished it were true, and even left the quills in my plunger until 386455 called me out on it during inspection week.

42362.

I knew I loved her, but how would I make her love me?

Beneath our compound, there are dank musty caves containing the various beasts that defend us from invaders. 42362 loves these creatures, especially "39-B", the alligator-like Magneton and the hyperactive Slyther (it's egg shaped, and it's fast), "10-C." (I don't know where she gets all these ridiculous names for her pets, but I always thought it rather endearing).

I could often find her in these caves, taking care of the creatures, injecting experimental growth hormones or mutagens only if a superior demanded it, and even then sometimes swapping the chemicals for saline.

After our encounter with the feline, and her rejection of me, I would follow her into these caves, and watch her taking care of her pets.

The first couple times, she tolerated me, pretending that I didn't exist.

The third time, however, she snapped at me. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" she shrieked. "YOU'RE NOT BEHAVING LIKE A PROPER DALEK!"

I wanted to tell her maybe I didn't want to be a `proper Dalek'. I wanted to tell her that maybe, just maybe, I wanted her heart. But I was too afraid to say it.

Instead, I just awkwardly stared at her.

"GO!" she yelled. "DON'T MAKE ME REPORT YOU!"

This was why I was afraid. What if she sent me to the Dalek Asylum? I could think of no worse fate than rotting away in that concrete box. I feared even the idea of the place.

With a shuddering sigh, I turned away, shutting off my communications equipment as I quietly sobbed in my control pod.

Yes, even a Dalek can experience heartbreak.


	3. Chapter 3: Heart Break

For several days I was inconsolable.

In my sorry state of dejection, work began to suffer.

On planets where I was ordered to exterminate people, I did it halfheartedly.

Sometimes I'd just shoot them in the foot or the leg, and they'd run away, sometimes to join with gangs of rebels.

At other times, when higher-ups like Dalek 386455 scolded me on my performance, I would go the other direction and start blasting at everything indiscriminately, sometimes hitting other Daleks or setting off highly combustible materials in the vicinity by mistake.

Of course, I never got mad enough to destroy small helpless creatures. I still had hope that Dalek 42362 would change her mind. Even though I viewed it as improbable as being hit by a large asteroid, I didn't want to ruin my chances, however slim.

When I returned to base after those missions, I'd just retreat into a corner and stare at a wall for hours. I heard mutterings about the Dalek Asylum, but I couldn't help myself.

"WHAT IS YOUR MALFUNCTION!" Dalek 386455 barked at me when I found me thus.

"MY MOTIVATOR CIRCUIT IS IN NEED OF REPAIR," I said, and I rolled away to my private recharging cell.

Despite this deception, I narrowly avoided a one way trip to the Asylum.

As fortune would have it, a mission was announced in the middle of the night, well, _night equivalent_, about 01:00 on this lifeless rock. We were dispatched to a swampy bog of a planet, with lots of hanging plants and giant ferns.

Fitted with our hover boots, we departed from the spherical black landing craft, sweeping the jungle for intelligent life.

When I heard who I'd be paired with on this mission, my heart pounded hard within the slimy tentacled structures of my body. I don't exactly have a chest, you know.

I held my composure, trying to act normal, but I was on edge, hoping against hope that 42362 had changed her mind.

We exterminated a few tentacled swamp beasts, then helped burn an area for the new base to go.

When the humans attacked, we gave chase, flushing them out of hiding and exterminating the men we could find.

I felt more alive than I had been for several days.

As I and 42362 hovered further through the foliage, she addressed me directly, something that hadn't happened for weeks.

"DALEKS 42221 AND 43850 SAY YOU'VE BEEN BEHAVING STRANGELY," she said.

"I HAVEN'T BEEN FEELING WELL," I replied.

She retreated from me. "HAVE YOU BEEN CONTAMINATED?"

"NO," I said. "IT IS MY HEART."

Daleks by nature aren't very subtle. So she flew closer, eyestalk peering at me with concern.

"ARE YOU EXPERIENCING HEART DISEASE?"

I sighed. "NO. IT IS HEART BREAK."

"WHAT!" she said with alarm. But then she muttered, "OHH..."

I stared at her sadly.

"YOU ARE A DALEK," she said. "YOU SHOULD SUPPRESS THAT EMOTION. IT IS A TRAIT OF A LOWER LIFE FORM."

"IS IT ALSO A TRAIT OF A LOWER LIFE FORM TO NOT EXTERMINATE SMALL ANIMALS?"

The movements of her vehicle looked indignant, angry even. "IT IS NOT THE SAME!" she shouted.

"ISN'T IT?" I bowed my stalk.

After a long angry pause, she blurted, "YOU ARE RIGHT. I MUST...I...I _AM_ TRYING HARD NOT TO BE SO...SO..."

_"_KIND?" I said. "WONDERFUL?"

42362 appeared to be shocked enough to forget to hover and drop herself into the swamp.

"WAIT. WHAT IS THIS? YOU...CERTAINLY, YOU AREN'T..."

I nodded my eyestick. "42362, I LOVE YOU."

She just stared at me.


	4. Chapter 4: Pink Lights

I imagine, as you're reading my story, the capitalization may seem to you a bit excessive. It may even begin to resemble a Microsoft Readme file. But I am a Dalek, and our voices are always amplified by means of an electronic device, one which does not allow for much vocal variety.

"I...DON'T KNOW...WHAT TO THINK," 42362 blurted in response to my heartfelt profession of love.

"I'VE HEARD LOVE ISN'T SOMETHING YOU NECESSARILY THINK ABOUT," I said.

"I DON'T KNOW..." she said. "THIS IS SO WEIRD..."

"WHAT'S SO WEIRD ABOUT IT?" I said. "IT CAN'T BE ANY MORE WEIRD THAN BEING LITTLE LUMPY CREATURES WITH TENTACLES INSIDE A PAIR OF METAL CANS, COULD IT?" I paused. "DO YOU LOVE ME, 42362? AT LEAST, A LITTLE? I KNOW WE GOT OFF TO A BAD START WITH THAT PRICKLY THING...BUT YOU'VE OPENED MY MIND. YOU'VE MADE ME WANT TO BE SOMETHING MORE THAN JUST AN AVERAGE DALEK."

42362's eyestalk scanned my chariot questioningly. For a long time she was silent except for the mechanical whirring sound of her roving robotic eye.

"YOU...HAVE FEELINGS OF AFFECTION TOWARDS ME," she said at last.

"YES," I told her. "AND IT PLEASES ME GREATLY TO SPEAK TO YOU."

"I ADMIT IT IS NOT UNPLEASANT TO SPEAK TO YOU AS WELL," 42362 said. "AND I ALSO APPRECIATE YOUR UNDERSTANDING OF MY AVERSION TO EXTERMINATING WEAK AND HELPLESS CREATURES. BUT WHAT WOULD WE GAIN FROM THIS `LOVE'? DALEKS DO NOT PROCREATE LIKE BASER LIFEFORMS. WE ARE ALL CLONED, TO ENSURE A PERFECT, DEFECT FREE LINEAGE."

"WHO SAYS WE HAVE TO PROCREATE?" I SAID. "AND EVEN IF WE DID, WOULD IT BE SO BAD TO HAVE DEFECTS? DALEK, 42362, YOU HAVE TAUGHT ME THAT THERE ARE MANY KINDS OF BEAUTY, AND EVEN THINGS THAT AREN'T DALEKS, OR MAYBE AREN'T ONE HUNDRED PERCENT PURE DALEKS, CAN STILL BE BEAUTIFUL."

The lights on the dome of her machine turned pink. I had never seen that happen before, on any Dalek.

"I DON'T RECALL TEACHING YOU WHAT YOU JUST DESCRIBED," she said.

"WELL MAYBE YOU JUST IMPLIED IT," I said, equally embarrassed. "BUT I _THOUGHT_ YOU SAID IT."

Her dome lights flickered, the equivalent of stammering.

"YOUR LIGHTS ARE PINK," I said.

This made the pink brighter. "SO WHAT IF THEY ARE?"

"NOTHING," I said. "IT'S JUST...CUTE."

She froze. "HOW WILL THIS EVEN WORK? WE'RE TRAPPED IN THESE VEHICLES. TO PROTECT OURSELVES FROM OUTSIDE CONTAMINATION."

"LIKE THE PRICKLY CREATURE?" I said.

The pink lights flashed.

"I HAVE HEARD MANY THINGS ABOUT LOVE REQUIRING GREAT RISKS, OR AT LEAST, RISKS OF SOME KIND OR ANOTHER."

I stared at her lights. "DID YOU INSTALL THOSE JUST FOR ME?"

Her mechanical eye dipped, with apparent shame. "I...I DON'T KNOW. I'M...VERY CONFUSED."

Suddenly our team leader, 4090746 appeared behind us, interrupting our little moment.

"DALEK 42362 AND 41629! WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE! ANSWER! ANSWER!"

"I..." I stammered with flickering lights.

"WE HIT A PATCH OF SWAMP GAS," 42362 said.

4090746's eye narrowed. "SENSORS DID NOT DETECT ANY HAZARDOUS GASES IN THIS AREA."

"THAT'S BECAUSE THE GAS AFFECTED THE SENSORS," 42362 replied.

4090746 drew back in alarm. "OH."

42362 pretended to be checking a reading. "GASES NOW REDUCED TO SAFE LEVELS."

"OPERATIONS MUST RESUME!" 4090746 barked. "YOU ARE BEHIND SCHEDULE!"

"YES, DALEK 4090746," 42362 said.

"I OBEY," I agreed.

Dalek 4090746 pointed his eyestick at 42362.

"YOUR LIGHTS ARE PINK."

"YES," she said.

His lens got narrow. "WHY ARE THEY PINK?"

"COLORATION DOES NOT AFFECT THE FUNCTIONALITY OF MY COMMUNICATION LIGHTS."

4090746 paused. "CORRECT."

I turned and fired at a giant snapping plant tentacle. 42362 did the same.

Seeing us busy at work, the boss spun around, flying back to where he came from.

"WHEW," said 42362. "I THOUGHT FOR SURE I'D END UP IN THE DALEK ASYLUM."

"YOU SHOULD NOT WORRY," I said. "IF THEY THINK YOU ARE DEFECTIVE, BLAME ME. SAY THAT I GAVE YOU THE IDEA."

Her pink lights were flashing when she replied. "THANK YOU, BUT I COULDN'T DO THAT TO YOU. IT WOULDN'T BE NICE."

"YOU ARE A DALEK," I said.

She looked away. "I KNOW."

We floated through the jungle, firing right and left at the giant hairy plant beasts that charged at us. We also found a nest of rodents with their babies, but we left that alone.

"I LIKE YOUR PINK LIGHTS," I said after obliterating some giant jungle octopus thing. "THEY'RE FUN."

"OH THEY'RE MORE THAN THAT!" 42362 said.

I was so surprised by her statement that I missed the six foot cockroach creature I was aiming for and blew a hole in a tree.


	5. Chapter 5: Risk

We went about the rest of our mission like it were just your average routine job.

42362, looking lovely in her flamethrower equipment, alternated between hovering close to me and distancing herself as she set sections of the jungle on fire.

We were silent for a great deal of time, but, after setting fire to a great swath, she came close to me and whispered, "I WISH I DID NOT HAVE TO SET FIRE TO SO MANY TREES AND PLANTS. BY DOING THIS, WE EXTERMINATE MANY SMALL HELPLESS CREATURES."

If she could see beneath my armored shell, she would have seen me smiling. "I KNOW," I said. "BUT WHO ARE WE TO OPPOSE THE SUPREME DALEK, OR EVEN 4090746?"

She sighed, turned her eyestick, and set fire to more jungle plants.

We cleared a mile of jungle this way, but after we'd gone a few more yards, she saw it.

A massive nest of naked little rodent creatures.

With bird beaks and reptile bodies. Little eyeless heads.

The fire had killed hundreds of them.

They looked pitiful, curled up in their little wasp-like nest compartments. I felt bad just looking at them.

"CRYING," 42362 sobbed. "CRYING, CRYING!"

I hated to see her like that.

Determined to cheer my friend up, I said, "42362, YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED EMOTIONAL PAIN. REQUEST PERMISSION TO COMMENCE HUGGING PROCEDURE."

"HOW?" she said. "YOU ONLY HAVE A DISRUPTOR CANNON AND A PLUNGER."

I swallowed. "I AM PREPARED TO MAKE RISKS."

She understood right away. "THIS IS NOT A STERILE ENVIRONMENT. YOU WILL CONTAMINATE YOURSELF."

"THIS DOES NOT BOTHER OTHER SPECIES."

"YES," she said with a flash of her pink lights.

I opened the panel on the front of my vehicle.

"YOUR SELF SACRIFICE IS NOT REQUIRED," she said. "THE EMOTIONAL HUG YOU HAVE GIVEN ME WITH THESE FOOLISH BUT WELL MEANING STATEMENTS IS SUFFICIENT. IT IS, AS THE HUMANS SAY, `ROMANTIC.'"

"YOU ARE NOT SAD," I said. "OPERATION HAS BEEN SUCCESSFUL."

"CRYING ACTIVITY ABORTED," she agreed.

But I still thought I heard her whimpering about the dead little creatures.

"WE SHOULD GO AWAY FROM HERE," I said. "FIND A PLACE WHERE WE DO NOT HAVE TO EXTERMINATE SMALL LIFE FORMS."

"BUT THEN HOW WOULD WE REPAIR THESE LIFE SUSTAINING MACHINES?"

I had no answer for that.

"IT IS A NICE IDEA."

To this we both sighed unhappily.

We reached the end of our assigned task, returning to base.


	6. Chapter 6: Number 11 Shovel

We continued clear cutting the jungle.

Being the nice Dalek I am, I scouted ahead in search of little helpless creatures before resuming our sweep.

A few kilometers in, I found another nest.

We both froze, uncertain as to what to do. I didn't want to make 42362 unhappy.

"CAN WE...BURN AROUND IT?" she asked.

I shook my eyestick. "SECTOR IS SCHEDULED FOR PAVING."

She paused a long time, crying a little.

Suddenly her dome lights flickered a brilliant white. "WE COULD USE THE EXCAVATOR!"

"WHICH ONE?" I asked, for there were several.

The Excavator 200 was a drilling machine. 197 was a jackhammer.

"EXCAVATOR 11," she said.

"ELEVEN?" It was hard to simulate disbelief with my monotone voice equipment. "BUT THAT IS A SNOW SHOVEL. THERE ARE NO MOTORIZED FUNCTIONS."

"IT IS A GOOD SNOW SHOVEL," she said.

"WE ARE IN A JUNGLE. THERE WILL BE NO ORDERS FOR SNOW SHOVELS."

"THEN ORDER A NUMBER 10 OR A 13. JUST DON'T ORDER 14 BECAUSE IT'S A PICKAXE."

With a mechanical sigh, I said, "IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY, I WILL OBEY."

She flashed her pink lights as she answered. "THANK YOU."

I spun around, zooming back up our path of destruction with efficient speed.

Our quartermaster 42368 was stationed on a square of concrete a few yards away from the spherical craft we'd arrived in. A mobile storage pod behind him contained all the tools necessary to establish a base. As I approached him, I stared into the pod, hoping it held more than that.

I hovered up to 42368, clearing my throat. It came out my amplification system as a rather undramatic buzz.

"REQUISITION REQUEST 111-24-3492: EXCAVATOR 11 IS REQUIRED."

"IT IS NOT SNOWING," 42368 replied slowly. His processors were always on delay, which is why he nearly always got assigned this humdrum task.

"YOU ARE CORRECT," I said. "BUT THERE IS DEBRIS IN NEED OF CLEARING."

"WHY NOT SIMPLY VAPORIZE IT?"

"IT IS A WASTE OF DISRUPTOR POWER."

"AND SHOVING IT WITH YOUR VEHICLE IS A WASTE OF MOTIVATOR POWER."

"IT IS _SMALL DEBRIS_." I said.

"YOU ARE NOT ASSIGNED CLEAN UP. THAT IS THE DUTY OF 907460. FURTHERMORE, BY REQUESTING A NUMBER 11 SHOVEL IN A NON ARCTIC CLIMATE, YOU SHOW INFERIOR DECISION MAKING SKILLS IN REGARDS TO CLEAN UP." His eyestick moved back and forth. "WHY DO YOU REALLY WANT THAT SHOVEL?"

My eye drooped. "I WISH TO MOVE ANIMALS."

"WHY ARE YOU MOVING ANIMALS? WHY ARE YOU NOT EXTERMINATING THEM? ANSWER!"

My eyestick couldn't move any lower. "BECAUSE..." I said with discomfort. "EXTERMINATING WEZCARCU MAKES 42362 CRY."

"YOU SHOULD REPORT THIS TO DALEK COMMAND." 42368 said.

I shook my dome violently. "NO. THAT WOULD MAKE _ME_ CRY."

42368's dome spun in a circle, as if scanning for someone.

When it again faced me, he said, "USE AN X-51. I ALWAYS SAID THEY WERE TOO GENTLE TO BE OF ANY PRACTICAL USE!"

"SO YOU WILL SUBMIT MY REQUISITION?"

42368 nodded. "YOU ARE HANDLING SMALL, VERY DELICATE EXPLOSIVES. I AM CERTAIN THAT DALEK COMMANDER WILL APPROVE."

"BUT I AM NOT-"

"SHHH," 42368 said. "AND THEY SAY _I_ AM THE SLOW ONE."

"THANK YOU," I replied. "WHY ARE YOU BEING SO NICE?"

"42362 AND I CAME FROM GENETIC BATCH 3599. SHE IS LIKE A SISTER."

The X-51 was a very good tool. A motorized scoop with dull blades that gently reached around the target. In no time I had the nest moved, the device returned, and our assigned section of the jungle mostly leveled.

"I WISH TO HUG YOU TO EXPRESS MY APPRECIATION," 42362 said.

"ALAS," I said. "IT IS TOO UNSAFE. YOU HAVE SAID SO YOURSELF."

"YES," she sighed. "OURS IS A DIFFICULT LOVE."

Inside my motorized shell, I was doing the happy dance, which caused my vehicle to do strange things.

"IS YOUR WIRING MALFUNCTIONING?"

"NO," I said. "I AM SIMPLY OVERJOYED. TO HEAR YOU SPEAK IN THIS MANNER."

She giggled, which came out as a buzzing sound.

We continued the operation we were assigned, and the construction crew arrived in their spacecraft, taking over.

42362 and I returned to our ship in a buoyant mood.

"BE GOOD TO 42362," 42368 told me as he loaded the supply pod onboard. "I WILL BE WATCHING YOU."

"YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR," I said. "I SEEK ONLY HER HAPPINESS."

Suddenly I see 4090746 rolling down the landing ramp. "41629! YOU HAVE REQUISITIONED AN X-51 EXCAVATOR! EXPLAIN!"

"I WAS MOVING DELICATE EXPLOSIVES."

4090746's eye scanned my vehicle with suspicion. "SENSORS DID NOT DETECT ANY EXPLOSIVES IN THAT REGION."

"THAT IS BECAUSE I MOVED THEM." I said.

4090746 stared at me some more, then appeared to accept my explanation. "WHERE ARE THEY NOW?"

"I HAVE DEPOSITED THEM IN A BOG."

After another tense moment of staring, 4090746 spun around. "PREPARE TO BOARD. RETURNING TO BASE."

While traveling in space, we park our vehicles in special recharging stations while our interior fleshy forms are suspended in a special nutrient solution. Obviously, this is not a time for chitchat or sharing feelings.

When we finally returned to base, however, I drove my vehicle up alongside 42362 as she was leaving, asking if it were okay to accompany her.

She agreed, and we spent the evening feeding the various mutant creatures living beneath the base.

It was around 02:00 when the base went into red alert. I had just bid my love goodnight and had rolled my vehicle into a charging station when the emergency lights came on.

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" I cried as I rolled out of the station.

"IT IS THE DOCTOR!" said 4090746. "BATTLE STATIONS!"


	7. Chapter 7: Maneuvers

The Doctor.

So many strange things have been said about him, but I wasn't sure how much to believe.

I had never seen the guy before.

Granted, he was said to wear many faces, but I had yet to see any of them.

Our major heavy hitters, 619102, 601211 and 236716 were sent to stop him, others eagerly following suit.

The Supreme Dalek assigned me to handle a rather minor detail of patrolling around our experimental machinery room, while 42362 was sent to watch the nutrient supply station for the Dalek nursery.

Not the most exciting or glamorous tasks. Basically we just rolled around dull looking corridors, searching for enemy movement, or the _sound_ of enemy movement, once and awhile popping into the room to see if this "Doctor" had pulled a fast one on us.

42362 had routes that passed each other.

First, we rolled around the stations clockwise, then, out of boredom, we changed it to anticlockwise for variety.

Then we timed our rotations to roll beside each other for part of the loop.

"THIS IS SILLY," 42362 was saying. "THERE'S NOTHING HAPPENING BACK HERE."

"YOU'RE RIGHT," I said. All the shouts and explosions were happening on the other end.

We stopped in the middle of our route, gazing into each other's mechanical eye.

"I WAS JUST THINKING," I said.

"YES?" she replied.

"THIS IS A SAFE, CLEAN PLACE..."

Without a word, 42362 just slowly rolled her vehicle into mine, scooting me into a wall as she opened her protective grille.

I swung my eyestalk back and forth. "WAIT."

"WHAT? I THOUGHT YOU DESIRED CONTACT."

"I DO," I said. "BUT NOT IN THE HALLWAY."

"OH." she paused in thought. "THERE IS NO ROOM TO EXPERIMENT IN THE NURSERY SUPPLY STATION."

I scooted my vehicle sideways, turned, and plunged open the prototype room door.

We quickly rolled inside, closing the door behind us.

The prototype room was a rather cluttered place, filled with giant piles machinery, tool lockers, and shelves full of equipment, but its floors were clean, and the environment was regularly scrubbed of contaminants. Not exactly ideal, but, well, Daleks don't have bedrooms or dens or hotels or anything, so we had to make do.

42362 pushed me against a wall, opening her protective casing once more.

Eagerly, I opened mine as well, extending the little drawbridge we used to change vehicles.

When hers and mine overlapped, I slithered across, wrapping my tentacles around that wonderful green body I had known for so long as nothing but a disembodied voice in a gray can.

The experience was indescribable, to have another Dalek in your tentacles, and feel their warmth as they embrace you.

"I enjoy these hugging procedures," 42362 gurgled, her voice no longer amplified by her vehicle. "Perhaps we could also attempt osculation maneuvers?"

"42362!" I exclaimed. "This is so sudden! We have only begun experimentation with hugging and you already wish to connect our mouths together?"

"41629," she said. "What we are doing is unapproved physical contact. We may never get another chance."

Several of my lobes changed color - a blush response. "I...am willing to engage," I stammered.

"I heard about your laser etching," she said as she moved her mouth close to mine. "It did not go unnoticed."

I blushed deeper. "You did?"

42362 nodded. "Initiating response."

The moment our lips touched, engaging in pleasing maneuvers, I heard a clang, and a scruffy looking man with curly hair, a scarf and a trenchcoat dropped from the ceiling.

I and 42362 froze, staring at the man in shock and horror.

The man grinned, flashing teeth that would look good on a horse.

"Terribly sorry about the intrusion," he said as he dusted off his lumpy hat. "Don't mind me. I see that you two are _quite busy_!"

"Should we exterminate him?" I whispered to 42362.

"We can do that _later_," she purred, pressing her lips to mine.


	8. Chapter 8: Caught

The stranger left us.

Before you get the wrong idea, let me tell you that we didn't do _that_.

Yes, we were touching and kissing, but, well, we couldn't find our reproductive organs. Both of us were certain they were in there _someplace_, but, well, we've never used them. That kind of thing is generally discouraged. There are no instructional videos or brochures about the process. It would defeat the whole purpose of the cloning program.

Plus, I was certain we'd just encountered the Doctor.

When we had stopped kissing for a moment, I asked, "Do you think that was the Doctor?"

"No," said 42362. "The Doctor is an old man with gray hair."

I frowned. "I have heard he is also a slightly younger man with black hair, a pointy nosed man with a bouffant, and...and..."

"And a curly haired weirdo with horse teeth," 42362 gasped. "Oh 41629! We are in trouble! We did not destroy the Doctor!"

We both felt bad about that, but not _too_ bad. As we held each other, gazing into each other's single eye, I said, "I do not feel as badly about this as a Dalek should."

"Agreed," 42362 said. "I am currently experiencing even less remorse."

"41629 AND 42362!" we suddenly heard 386455 shouting. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS! ANSWER! ANSWER!"

"I THINK YOU KNOW," I replied to the white vehicle.

386455 rolled backwards, pointing his disruptor threateningly. "YOU HAVE FAILED THE DALEK RACE! YOU HAVE LET THE DOCTOR ESCAPE! I SHOULD EXTERMINATE YOU RIGHT NOW!"

We froze, terrified, neither one of us daring to speak.

"RETURN TO YOUR SHELLS TO AWAIT TRIAL!" he commanded.

Swallowing, we gave each other one last kiss, returning to the stuffy confines of our vehicles.

386455 ordered us to leave the room, so we each replied, "I OBEY" and followed his instruction, rolling down the corridors to the Sentencing Room.

There isn't much to say about the Sentencing Room. It is a gray cube of a chamber, spartan in its furnishings.

It is here 386455 told us to wait, and wait we did.

We couldn't go out if we wanted to. 4090746 and 4090747 were standing guard at the rear exit, and more unfriendly sentries stood at the other ones.

"I'M SCARED," said 42362.

"ME TOO," I replied. I paused a moment, then said, "I CANNOT ALLOW YOU TO BE EXTERMINATED. IF A DALEK IS TO BE EXTERMINATED, IT WILL BE ME. TELL EVERYONE THAT THIS WAS MY IDEA. I WILL DIE IN YOUR PLACE."

"IT IS I WHO SHOULD DIE FIRST," 42362 said. "YOU ARE GENETICALLY SUPERIOR."

"YOU ARE TOO MODEST," I said. "BUT THAT DOES NOT IN ANY WAY MAKE YOUR GENETICS INFERIOR TO MINE."

"QUIET," said Dalek 4090750, one of the other door guards. "YOU ARE MAKING ME SICK."

"YOU ARE JUST JEALOUS," said 42362. "WE HAVE EXPERIENCED KISSING AND YOU HAVE NOT."

"YES, I MEAN, DON'T MAKE ME EXTERMINATE YOU," 4090750 growled.

And then 4090751 blurted, "WHAT GOOD IS KISSING WHEN WE DON'T HAVE ANY REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS?"

"I THINK THEY ARE STILL PRESENT BUT NEVER USED," 42362 said. "LIKE AN APPENDIX. IN FACT, I THINK I FEEL MINE WORKING WHEN I LOOK AT 41629."

I heard simultaneous cries of "BLEAH."

Our discussion was cut short by the Supreme Dalek entering the room.

His vehicle was very tall and golden, with a spherical head, and unusually patterned platework instead of sense orbs.

A number of high ranking Daleks rolled in from the entrances, most notably 490011, 310 and 2.

The Supreme Dalek rolled to the center of the chamber.

"41629 AND 42362! PRESENT YOURSELVES!"

"I OBEY!" we cried, parking our vehicles before him. It felt like a wedding, but not as nice.

"41629 AND 42362, YOU HAVE FAILED TO COMPLY WITH YOUR ASSIGNED ORDERS TO DESTROY THE DOCTOR AND VIOLATED ANTI-CONTAMINATION PROTOCOL. EXPLAIN!"

I had nothing to say. Neither did she.

"EXPLAIN!"

If he has to say it thrice, you know you're in trouble.

"WE ARE IN LOVE!" 42362 shouted. "_THAT_ IS OUR EXPLANATION, SUPREME DALEK!"

The Supreme Dalek's shell shook with anger.

Still, I felt it would be wrong if I didn't also say something.

"I CONFIRM THIS EXPLANATION," I blurted. "THIS AFFECTION IS RECIPROCATED!"

42362's pink lights came on. I suddenly understood the meaning of that Romeo and Juliet story I studied during my first _Human Weaknesses_ training course.

"SILENCE!" Supreme Dalek yelled. "YOU ARE CLEARLY DEFECTIVE! I SHOULD EXTERMINATE YOU BOTH!"

"WAIT," said 42368, 42362's `brother'. "DO NOT EXTERMINATE THEM. BEFORE THIS INCIDENT, THEIR PERFORMANCE HAS BEEN EXEMPLARY."

The Supreme Dalek lapsed into an emotionally unreadable silence.

And then...

"4090746 AND 4090747! TAKE THESE TWO DEFECTIVE DALEKS TO THE DALEK ASYLUM FOR REPROGRAMMING!"

"NO!" I and 42362 cried.

"NOOO!" we reiterated with a little more intensity as 4090746 AND 4090747 dragged us away with their mechanical claws.

"NOOOOO!"


	9. Chapter 9: Asylum

It's easy for a Dalek to be deemed insane.

Behaving too human-like when not working as a sleeper agent.

Deliberately missing an enemy target due to an attack of conscience.

Intentionally not destroying the Doctor.

Choosing a creative name instead of a number.

Discussing the merits of artistic expressionism.

Choreographed armored vehicle ballet set to music.

Not calling everyone who disagrees with you a Nazi, because, you know, that's ten times worse than a Dalek.

On a similar token, questioning the Dalek Supreme court's practice of legislating from the bench.

And, of course, those who talk to invisible bunnies, those who are convinced they are Elvis Presley, or Napoleon, or are absolutely convinced they are a baked potato.

Oh, those aren't examples. I just listed my companions aboard the shuttle.

We were on a small cargo carrier, one built in a rectangular shape instead of the traditional saucer design.

The bulkheads were lined with storage compartments one could open with a plunger, but we didn't have that luxury. Our vehicles had been forced into sort of a corral eight Daleks deep and four across, with a pair of guards rolling around the perimeter to make sure we didn't try anything.

No windows. No entertainment.

Our vehicles had even been downgraded with substandard parts, inferior voice modules. I wasn't even allowed to park next to 42362.

When we first boarded the craft, none of us said anything. First of all, because we were all pretty depressed about going to the Dalek Asylum, and secondly, we had been threatened with having our vocal devices removed if we talked.

That threat worked for awhile, but when our ship was moving away from Skaro, it wasn't practical, for they'd have to pull us out of our tightly packed corral where no movement was possible, and they didn't have the proper equipment to do the job anyway, unless the guards wished to exit their own magnetized vehicles and do it manually...in zero gravity.

And so the noise level became a little higher, as strangers turned their eyesticks and muttered to each other in awkwardly amplified voices. Well, everyone except Potato.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT SEURAT?" said the Dalek in front of me.

I only stared at him. "IS THAT A KILLING TECHNIQUE?"

The Dalek groaned and turned away.

"HAY UNA IDEA PARA ESCAPAREMOS," said the Dalek next to me.

Use of a non-English language for anything other than secret military operations or spying was another way to get sent to the asylum.

"SOY ESCUCHANDO," I replied.

"SOY ESCUCHANDO TAMBIEN," said one of our guards, pointing his disruptor threateningly.

We prisoners groaned in frustration.

For awhile, I stood in silence, listening to the others murmuring around me. The two Daleks in front were arguing back and forth about whether or not the paintings of Mondrian and Andy Warhol were considered true art. Potato, on my other side, politely declined to comment.

A couple times, someone would pass down a verbal message from the front, but it never made sense, like, "MESSAGE FROM FORTY TWO SEXY DUDES. I LUMP SHREWS TOGETHER IN FURRY ONE'S SEXY NINES."

After awhile, however, whoever it was had given it up, and I got no more strange messages.

It was a long, uninteresting voyage through space, in which I couldn't even tell where were were going, a large door at the end of the ship slid open, and we were herded into the Asylum.

The Dalek Asylum was a massive concrete structure, with tall walls slanting strangely toward the ceiling.

Once we had passed through the concrete entry tunnel, and a pair of giant green sliding doors, also of a strange polygonal shape, our vehicles were fitted with chains, which a Dalek with a specially designed clamp extension used to bind us to the concrete walls.

They chained us up in rows, then, when everyone was bound in place, they turned and left us there, perhaps to die.

More fearful than ever, I yelled for 42362, but I was only answered by the shouts of Dalek Elvis, Napoleon, and the others. Not Potato, of course.

I sighed in resignation, listening to the shouts and yells of the others to lose strength, devolving into infantile wailing.

I let out a sorrowful moan, joining them in their anguish.

"STICK A FORK IN ME!" cried Potato. "I'M DONE!"

When others stared at him, he said, "I THOUGHT FOR SURE THIS WOULD GET ME A SECTION EIGHT MEDICAL DISCHARGE."

"YOU GOT DISCHARGED, ALL RIGHT," said the Dalek next to him.

Potato moaned in sadness.

I had to find 42362. I had to _be_ with her. She was all I had left.

"42362!" I called, hoping she would hear me and respond.

One of the machines spun its headpiece 180 degrees. "SHE'S NEAR THE FRONT," the Dalek said.

I recognized the voice, and the pattern of dents in his chariot. It was 42368, 42362's brother.

"THANK YOU," I said.

"A DALEK NEVER SAYS THANK YOU," he said. "BUT YOU ARE WELCOME."

I opened the grille of my vehicle, staring fearfully at my surroundings.

There would be no special platforms or machines for me to use. All I had were my weak, seldom used tentacles. They would have to do.

Cautiously, I approached the lip of the grille, clapping my suction cups on the little railing that ran along the inside of the vehicle's head as I shifted my body over the side.

"CONTAMINATE," said a number of chained Daleks surrounding me.

"HE'S HEADED FOR THE HEART BREAK HOTEL," said Dalek Elvis.

The eyesticks of the machines followed my every movement, living vicariously through me, it seemed.

I pretended they weren't there, focusing on latching my tentacles on the spherical sensors on the outside of my shell.

Suckering myself to a pair of them, I dropped myself onto the lower sense spheres with as much caution as I could manage.

I heard gasps, for, to a Dalek, I was descending something the height of a small building.

When I reached the sense orbs beneath the next row, my tentacles slipped and I fell screaming to the dusty floor.

The bystanders gasped and muttered about how foolish I was, but Dalek Elvis said, "DON'T BE CRUEL NOW."

Sprawled on the concrete, I ached from numerous bruises, several of which probably occurring around my brain.

Still, I slowly squirmed myself into an upright position, shuffling forward in search of 42362.

The eyesticks followed my every move.

"42362!" I yelled in my puny voice.

"OVER HERE!" came the amplified reply.

I shuffled forward, slowly but steadily.

And then, there she was, rushing forward on her lovely little tentacles.

We squirmed closer and closer, eager to enfold each other in loving tentacles, sharing tender kisses as we touched each other with gentle suction cups.

We embraced, engulfing each other like amoebas swallowing bacteria. Our observers cheered.

"This is no punishment," 42362 breathed between kisses.

"Yes," I agreed. "This is freedom."


	10. Chapter 10: 42362pt22

We probably would have kept on kissing, but then we heard someone clearing their throat.

I looked up and saw it was a vehicle with a clerical collar.

"SORRY TO INTERRUPT," the Dalek said. "BUT I AM A PASTOR, AND I COULD NOT HELP BUT NOTICE THAT YOU TWO ARE _VERY CLOSE..._"

I narrowed my eye. "So?"

Pastor Dalek appeared to be embarrassed, swinging his eyestick no vigorously.

"(AHEM) NOTHING INHERENTLY WRONG WITH THAT, ACCORDING TO A CERTAIN BOOK I'M NOT ALLOWED TO READ. I WAS ONLY SUGGESTING THAT I PRESIDE OVER YOUR WEDDING."

We both stared at him, then at each other.

42362 looked at me with her eye shining. "Do you really think we should?"

"I would not mind having you as a wife," I said.

"Nor would I," she replied.

We chuckled nervously about this, then squirmed in front of Pastor Dalek's vehicle. "You would marry us?"

Pastor Dalek nodded his eyestick. "I AM AN ORDAINED MINISTER OF THE WORD. I TOOK AN ONLINE COURSE."

I and 42362 held tentacles. "Please commence marriage operation."

Pastor Dalek nodded. "COMMENCING MARRIAGE OPERATION."

He swiveled his eyestick back and forth. "WITNESSES DETECTED. SEEKING MUSICAL ASSISTANCE. CATEGORY: BRIDE'S MARCH."

"IF YOU'VE GOT A PROBLEM," Dalek Elvis said. "I DON'T CARE WHAT IT IS. I CAN HELP."

"ELVIS: PREPARE TO ACTIVATE BRIDE'S MARCH."

"I'M READY READY READY."

Somehow The King had rigged his machine to play music by means of electrical discharges, similar to certain Tesla Coil performances, but on a smaller scale.

Ordinarily, such a wasteful but entertaining use of electrical power would result in critical core failure, but our vehicles gather a static charge just by rolling back and forth, and The King had the moves.

42362 does not process down an aisle, because we have no aisle, per se. My bride was already by my side, so we just stayed where we were and listened to the music.

When the tune finished, Pastor Dalek asked us for our names and gave the invocation. "DALEK BELOVED, WE ARE GATHERED HERE TO UNITE 42362 AND 41629 TOGETHER IN DALEK MATRIMONY..."

The words that followed this were just your standard wedding vows, so I won't bore you with the details. Suffice to say it was all very well and good until we got to the part about the presentation of the rings.

"We don't have any," I told Pastor Dalek.

"Oh this is shameful," said 42362. "We'll be living in sin."

"NOT TO WORRY," said Pastor Dalek. "I HAVE AN IDEA."

The pastor opened the protective grille of his vehicle, tossing us a pair of rubber washers. They made an elegant fit on our tentacles, so we presented our rings and kissed.

Instead of rice, we were showered with an antibacterial solution. Hey, it's cleaner than rice, and we probably needed it.

"When humans marry," 42362 said. "It is customary for the female of the species to take the male's last name. But we only have numbers. What are we to do?"

I suppose we could have just made up regular names for this purpose, but instead I suggested, "Let's use decimals."

And so 42362 became 42362.22, for 22 is the sum of my name added together. Of course, for formal occasions, it would be 42362.41629, The 22 would be for brevity.

As I retell our adventures, I will alternate in my use of this name much in the way you would use "Mrs. Smith" and "Ms. Mary Smith", except it's not anything like that. I suppose I could have had her change her name to 41629.17,but I didn't think that would be fair to her.

"What do we do now?" 42362.22 said as she looked into my eyes. "We have been chained far apart from each other."

"We cannot move in together," I said. "They are only designed to house one Dalek."

"Perhaps we could move into adjacent machines and set up a bridge."

"Perhaps," I said. "But then someone would have to volunteer to trade with us." I sighed. "We could also find a safe place in this building and live that way."

"Yes, but where would we get our nutrient solution?"

"The humans have a song that says, `When we're hungry, love will keep us alive.'"

"That does not make sense."

"Agreed, but I am sure we can find an alternate source of nutrition somewhere, as the Daleks of old have done."

She nodded.

Artist Dalek, who had been laser etching our portrait on the plascrete, suddenly stopped in mid etch.

In case you're wondering, the weapon was broken, producing a very faint image...it wouldn't have cut his bonds any better than a plastic palette knife could cut steak.

"SENSORS DETECT WARDEN UNITS APPROACHING," he said.

Startled, I pulled 42362 behind Napoleon, watching with shock as a pair of white Daleks towed in an astronaut on a hover stretcher.

The dark haired woman wore an orange jumpsuit bearing a name patch which read C. Oswald. She seemed to be either dead or unconscious, but without my vehicle, I couldn't tell which.

When the wardens saw my empty vehicle, they froze, staring at it.

"41629 IS MISSING," said one of them. "HIS VEHICLE IS EMPTY."

The other Dalek examined my wife's vehicle. "42362'S IS EMPTY AS WELL."

The first Dalek asked Spanish Dalek about it.

"LO SIENTO. YO NO SABO," was his reply.

The warden tried Napoleon.

"YOU THINK THIS PETTY MATTER CONCERNS ME?" he shouted. "AGAIN, I DO NOT KNOW WHY YOU HAVE PLACED THE WORLD'S GREATEST MILITARY GENERAL AMONG THE INSANE WHEN THE ENTIRE DALEK NATION HAS MY COMPLEX!"

Warden Two aimed his distruptor cannon threateningly. "EXTERMINATE..."

Napoleon retreated. "STOP! I SURRENDER!"

"A DALEK DOES NOT SURRENDER," said Warden One.

"NEITHER DOES NAPOLEON," said Warden Two. "WE SHOULD EXTERMINATE HIM."

Warden One blocked his path. "NO, IF WE DID THAT WE WOULD NOT NEED AN ASYLUM."

"AND WHY _DO_ WE NEED ONE?"

"SO WE CAN HAVE A JOB."

Warden Two nodded his eyestick. "THAT IS A VERY GOOD REASON."

No one had a better answer to that, except for the Dalek that thought this was all part of a vast conspiracy involving Dalek eating walruses, Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders, and a time traveling rock guitarist who stored his removable brain in a special depository on the moon.

Warden One rolled back and forth in front of my machine. "PERHAPS THEY HAVE COMMITTED SUICIDE. LIKE THE MYTH OF ROMEO AND JULIET."

"A STORY ABOUT THE WEAKNESSES AND INFERIORITY OF HUMANS. A FITTING END."

The two shook their eyesticks in derision, carrying the astronaut away.

"What are they doing to that woman?" 42362 said. "Why did they not exterminate her?"

"Perhaps it is for an experiment," I said.

"We should follow them, and see what they do."

"Do you think that is wise, dear wife?"

"It is as wise as us getting married," she said. "I feel sorry for the woman."

"Ah."

When the doors at the end of the room came open, we hurriedly squirmed in after them, crossing our tentacles that the wardens didn't see us.

It was a gray corridor, with a slanting roof like the chamber we had just left.

"Where do you think they'll take her?" 42362.22 whispered.

"I don't know. To a lab, I guess."

We only got a few feet before someone noticed us.

Or rather, _some thing_.

Although we had been aware of them, we hadn't given much thought to the round silver panels set in the bottom of the walls at regular intervals. Although Daleks were not supposed to have artistic flourishes, I had assumed, since this was the Dalek Asylum, that artistic flourishes had been made.

I was wrong.

All of a sudden, four panels, two behind us, and two ahead, slid open, and a gang of oversized ants scampered out.

These ants were silver, the top of their heads a transparent dome through which we could see their Dalek brains.

"HALT!" one of them cried. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUTSIDE YOUR VEHICLE!"

42362.22 held up her rubber washer. "Getting married."

The ants froze, staring at us.


End file.
